I ‘d been dreaming about a prayer— words now forgotten— in one of those dreams that repeats itself in a contiguous loop like that of a scratched phonograph record, needle stuck in a grime-filled groove.

The simple prayer seemed doable. And by doable, I mean, even when life gets complicated with the washer broken, the in-laws mad, the brightest star fading, burning out, about to fall from the sky.

Suddenly I woke to the wildest calm: a backyard of sunshine and trees.

I recall from scripture a blind man begging for sight. And in the homily, the priest admitted, It’s not always easy to be a priest.” I rose from my bed and fell to my knees. I’ll be praying for priests today. And for the “blind.”

A former English teacher, Helen Losse is the author of six collections of poetry, including Facing a Lonely West. Her poems have been anthologized in Literary Trails of the North Carolina Piedmont, The Southern Poetry Anthology, Volume VII: North Carolina, and Kakalak 2014, nominated for a Pushcart Prize and for a Best of the Net award. She is an Associate Poetry Editor for Kentucky Review. She is married and has two grown sons. A Christian for fifty years, Helen entered the Catholic Church on Holy Saturday in 2015.